The Journey
by lanelane2
Summary: In a post apocalyptic world, a 14 year old kid nicknamed Lucky and his crew have been holding out. Fighting zombies and doing scouting trips on loot stashes, but what happens when he finds himself in trouble and under the imprisonment of a new group.


The Journey  
Lucky was in a fight, or not really so much of a fight as a war. He swung his .22 caliber hunting rifle over his head like a bat and smashed the stock into a young girl's decaying face. She went down silently, without so much as a change in her facial expression. He turned to his left and found that only two of the five members of his search party were still standing, Sasha and Mickey. He turned and faced forward again and saw that a slightly gooey zombie, missing an arm, was slowly approaching his front. He automatically brought his gun level with the zombies head and, without so much as a second thought, pulled the trigger.  
He stopped fighting for a moment to wipe his eyes of the bloody mush that now covered most of his body, his hearing slightly impaired by the sound of the gun. While he was doing this he noticed that a fat father had turned the corner of the hallway the scavenging crew was fighting down. He didn't want to waste bullets that he didn't have so he drew his machete and brought it in an upward motion straight into the zombie's jaw. The zombie seemed to explode like a firework and coated Lucky with goo all over again.  
He knew that he and his crew had no chance of surviving a pitched battle with this mob of zombies, but they didn't have much choice. He looked and found that Sasha had almost entirely cleared the entrance. He broke into a sprint for a few steps then, he suddenly felt something hard hit him in the gut. In an instant he was on the floor, breathless, with two plagued teenage girls on top of him.  
He struggled to keep them at bay with his machete but was unable to get any powerful swings at them. On top of that, the weight of the girls was slowly pressing the air out of his lungs. He saw spots dance before his eyes, growing and shrinking like balls going farther away, then came back.  
Then one of the girl's heads stopped moving entirely and was soon joined by the other. The two bodies were lifted off of him, and he watched as Mickey removed his sword from the head of the second girl and held his hand out.  
"Hey Luck, how about you stop flirting with the undead and we get our buts out of this hallway o' death?" he said as Lucky took his hand, still very dazed from his near death experience.  
"They may be undead, but they are still prettier than you," he said picking up his machete and rifle. He turned back to where the crew had entered the hall and started sprinting with Mickey following shortly behind. He saw Sasha up ahead, kneeling with her M4 unslung from her shoulder, firing into the mob that was chasing the two boys. Lucky heard the whistle of the bullets as they shot past him and Mick's faces and found a home in the skulls of their pursuers. He prayed that Sasha's reputation as a great shot would hold up.  
The two nearly ran Sasha over, but Lucky quickly reached down and interlocked his arm with hers. "Time to go," he said dragging her out the entrance of the hall. He now found himself in broad daylight, hot and glassy on his sweaty skin. He saw the same road, the same trees, the same blue, clear sky as he had seen on the way into the hallway.  
Lucky turned around after he had cleared the exit doors by a few yards and saw that he was still literally dragging Sasha along, he was confused as to why she wasn't walking until he noticed that her left leg had been torn to shreds and was oozing blood badly. He looked over and saw a downed tree branch laying on the ground. Perfect cover he thought to himself.  
He stopped dragging Sasha for a moment, just long enough for Mickey and him to catch their breath. "Hey," he said only just wheezing the word out. "You take Sasha and hide somewhere," he said. He then gave Mickey a small, handheld radio. "I want you to take this, and tell Graver that we need our reinforcements. They should arrive within the hour. Be sure to tell them to bring the big guns to deal with this lot here," he said motioning to the zombies that had just managed to break the weak wooden door, they had just passed through, off its hinges.  
Mickey looked at him, his eyes pleading with Lucky. "No," he said putting Lucky's radio back in his hand. "You're coming with us," he said pulling Lucky's hoodie with his free hand. Lucky smacked his hand away.  
"No, I'm not. You won't make it five feet without cover fire." He looked at Sasha now who was close to passing out. "Don't worry Mick! I'll be right behind you after I'm sure your clear," he said grabbing Sasha's M4. He had tried to sound confident and courageous, but by the looks of Mickey he had utterly failed. "Now go before were all zombie chow," he said before Mickey could change his mind.  
He took up his stance behind the tree log with the M4 trained at the doors. Now the zombies weren't just trickling out they were pouring out like a wave, a wave that wanted to eat his flesh. The moment for turning back had passed, so he opened up. They fell, one by one, coating the pavement with red, sloppy goo. A few broke off and tried to get at Mickey and Sasha but they soon joined their brothers with their brains on the pavement. He switched positions, though he had downed at least twenty of them, the wave seemed to surge all of a sudden and a few faster zombies broke off from the group and were closing the distance fast. He heard a click as his gun ran out of ammo, he threw it aside and grabbed his rifle. The first of the fast ones reached the log ahead of him and was met with a bullet through his neck. The second was smashed in the head with the rifle. The third was the one that got him. While he was busy with the second zombie, the third one had piled on top of him. He struggled under the weight of the zombie, head-butted it a few times, but it was no use. He couldn't throw this one, he grasped for his machete but found that his hand was trapped under the body of the zombie. He looked to see where Mickey could be and hoped that he and Sasha were safe. Well, He thought to himself, at least I'm not laying here watching them get torn to pieces. All he could do was hope, hope that they were ok. The only thing that kept him from giving up now and letting this zombie bite his neck out was hope.


End file.
